The Book in the Bottle
by TheCosmicMoth
Summary: Dulce Love has been hiding a miniature book in a potion bottle from her adventuring party. In a flashback, we learn what the book is and how she obtained it.


Some years ago…

It had been a rare night at The Sleeping Giant in Phandalin. A talented bard troupe on their way to Neverwinter had stopped to rest at the small, frontier town and decided to play for their room and board. That meant that it would be the perfect time for Dulce and Zeysa to sucker free drinks out of the colorful clientele that populated the run-down tap house. All night long, to the rolling chords of the lute and the soft, warm verves of the horn and the flute, Dulce and Zeysa let their bodies become like liquid to writhe, sway, and swing. Zeysa used her dancing lights to illuminate where they danced while Dulce used Prestidigitation to cause showers of sparks and glitter to float around them. They looked like true angels of the dance floor: Dulce with her flowing purple hair and her infectious smile and Zeysa with her tan skin and bounding braids.

The jerks in the tavern ate it up. Throughout the evening, the witchy duo had been approached by no less than six sets of "eligible" "bachelors." Some would awkwardly try to dance around the women, trying their best to make their repressed bodies dip and bounce as best as they could. Others, not nearly as bold, would stand around with their hands in their pockets waiting for a break in the music to approach them. The worst were the ones that would come on over and slap their disgusting forms right up against the dancing witches like they had been invited to do so- grinning the whole time. Dulce had to maintain the patience of a saint not to Chill Touch the bastards. As much as some of them may have deserved it, it would be bad for her fledgling potion business to start dropping locals.

No matter who approached them or how they did so, however, the game was the same. They would dance, wait for a break between songs, head to the bar with the "gentlemen," accept their free drinks, make a little small talk ("I had no idea it was so difficult raising sheep!"), and then excuse themselves back to the dance floor when the music picked back up. The bar was crowded, so it was easy to lose their inebriated pursuers on the packed dance floor. Then they would repeat the process. In this manner, two impoverished witches could have an excellent night out on the town without spending a copper. One had to be careful, though. Most of the men in Phandalin were farmers, farmhands, or miners. Burn them like that and they may get a bit disappointed or maybe a little angry, but most would eventually let it go if they managed to remember it at all the next day. Some, however, would take it a bit more personally and could become dangerous. Dulce and Zeysa were smart about who they danced around. The rules were simple: No one carrying a weapon, no one already with a woman, and no one who stared for too long because they would be the worst.

It's also important not to stay until last call just in case there was anyone lurking around for you. However, on this night, Dulce and Zeysa broke this rule. The music was too good, and the game had been too easy. They were feeling themselves. They were feeling the promise of the night, the promise of life. The two youngest members of The Coven of the White Birch hadn't had a night quite like this since last harvest. It was hard to let go, so they stayed until the last chord was plucked and the bell rang for last call. When she heard that bell, Dulce's heart skipped a beat and she grabbed Zeysa by the arm to pull her friend out of The Sleeping Giant.

"It seems we tarried a bit long, my heart," Dulce said as she yanked Zeysa toward the door.

"Don't be a crone, Dulce," Zeysa joked back to her. "These sheep herders are too drunk to cause us any trouble."

"Hey!" Almost in response to Zeysa's statement, a brusque voice called from behind them. "Hey! Not so fast, lovelies." Dulce turned to look at who was yelling to find the red-faced, balding, burly form of one of the men from set number three. His thinner, taller, but still quite balding friend was slinking up behind him. "We 'ad such a nice dance wit' you lovelies and we spent such good coin on yer dranks. Why should the night end now?"

"Yeah," the thin one chimed in. "How abouts you come up to our room and drink some more?"

That's when Dulce noticed the club strapped to the burly one's back. She must have missed it before or else he hadn't been wearing it. She silently cussed to herself and her mind raced for the incantation that Effrain taught her. The one that would conjure up an Eldritch Blast. She did not want to drop one of these men and be forced to flee town. Yet, she was also not letting anything happen to either Zeysa or herself.

"Sorry, boys, but we're a little tired," Dulce called back.

"Yeah, work in the morning," Zeysa joined in.

"Whores do ther work at night," the burly one said in a low, guttural tone.

Dulce's face went flush with anger and she was a second away from calling on that incantation when a voice called out from the bar. "There you two are!" Walking past their red-faced suiters and toward the two witches was the lute player from the bard troupe. His long, brown hair pulled in a ponytail behind him framed his handsome face that came complete with a well-trimmed goatee. He approached them calmly with a warm smile. "You forgot to take your share for dancing with the troupe tonight."

"These girls dance for your troupe?" The burly one asked with an eyebrow cocked.

The lute player turned to face him. "Of course. It's standard practice for troupes to hire pretty girls to keep the patrons interested." He said it so matter-of-factly that Dulce almost believed him. "Why? Is there a problem."

"No, no problem," the thin one muttered having completely lost his nerve.

Yet the burly one was not quite ready to let it go and said, "Yer two dancers suckered me and me friend out of a couple dranks."

"They did, did they?" The bard's tone was stern, and he craned his head around to give the witches a severe look. Then he winked. He turned back to the men and said, "Let me formally apologize for the trouble on behalf of the troupe. You can take this as repayment." He handed the burly man a silver piece. It was worth more than the four copper the men had spent on the drinks.

"Well… well alright then," the burly one said. "Jus' make sure to keep your troupe respekable in the future."

"Yes, sir. Of course. I will make certain these two never play such cruel tricks on fine gentlemen like yourselves again." Then the lute player bowed.

The burly one sniffed, took one last glance at the witches, grunted, and he and his friend stumbled back into The Sleeping Giant. After they were gone, the bard straightened himself up, turned to the women, and said, "I apologize for that demeaning ruse, but sometimes it's best to assuage idiots like that rather than cause a disturbance that raises the town's ire." His green eyes almost sparkled in the moonlight. "My name is Kylan and I was glad to have the both of you enjoying my troupe tonight. It's rare that we have an audience that truly appreciates what we do."

"Oh, I think we appreciate everything about you. Don't we, Dulce?" Zeysa elbowed her friend in the ribs.

"Uh, yes…" Dulce said. "Your music was beautiful."

"And that's not the only thing about you that's beau- "This time it was Dulce's turn to elbow her friend in the ribs.

"I'm Dulce, obviously, and this is Zeysa," Dulce said holding out her hand for the bard to shake.

Instead, he grasped it delicately, bowed his head and kissed her hand. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Dulce." Suddenly, Zeysa's hand appeared next to hers. The younger witch grinned at the lute player expectantly. He obliged by cupping Zeysa's hand and kissing it as well. "And, of course, it's a pleasure to meet you, Zeysa." Then he straightened back up. "Could I tempt you two ladies to come back in for a drink with the troupe? I'm sure our friends from earlier have retired to their well-bought comas."

Before Zeysa could utter a syllable, Dulce said, "Thank you, but we should be headed home. We're simple girls and that was a bit too much excitement for one evening." Zeysa stared daggers back at her.

"I can't say I'm not disappointed, but I completely understand." Those green eyes stared right into Dulce's the entire time. "We're headed to Neverwinter next. Maybe we'll see you there?"

_Tempting, oh green eyes, so tempting_. "Maybe…" Dulce smiled at him. "Goodnight, Kylan, and thank you."

"Yes, thank you so much, Kylan." Zeysa smothered the bard in a hug and kissed him on the cheek. Dulce stared daggers at her friend then she pulled Zeysa off the lute player.

As Dulce dragged Zeysa into the night, Kylan called after them, "Goodnight! May Milil keep you merry!"

"You're no fun, crone," Zeysa whined at Dulce.

"And you're uncareful, child," Dulce shot back. "We don't know that man from those drunk fools in the bar."

Zeysa snorted. "At least he was cute. And… I'm pretty sure he had a thing for you."

Dulce grinned. "Of course, he did. It couldn't have been for you."

"Salty crone," Zeysa laughed and punched her in the arm. Then the younger witch grew serious. "Still, that almost got serious back there."

"Yes," Dulce agreed, "it almost did."

"We should maybe move on from Phandalin soon," Zeysa continued. "It's been nice staying with my uncle for free," she smiled, "but the longer we stay the more likely the locals will make a thing about our magic."

"Flatlanders," Dulce shook her head. "Magic is so useful when it's love potions and rain rituals to make the crops grow. The second they get inconvenienced, it's: 'Burn the witches! Burn them all!'"

"I would rather not get burnt," Zeysa said then stopped. "Here's my uncle's place. Do you want me to walk you back to that terrible shack you live in?"

"Oh, my brave defender," Dulce mocked. "No, I think I'll be alright from here, thanks."

"It's your funeral," Zeysa waved. "Goodnight, Dulce! Don't let the lute players bite!"

Dulce watched her friend disappear into a small farmhouse. Dulce laughed to herself lightly and wiped a small bit of cool sweat from her forehead. _This was a good night_, she said to herself. Then the purple haired witch continued down the path out of Phandalin until she came to a small, rickety shack on the outskirts of town. It wasn't much but it suited her needs. Phandalin was small and out of the way enough for her to brew her potions without interference. Yet, it was close enough to The High Road to allow easy travel to the big cities. This humble shack would be the staging ground for her lucrative potion business: Dulce Love's Potions.

When Dulce got close to her humble shack, however, she nearly leapt out of her boots in fright. When she was within 60 feet of her shack, she started to hear a loud clanging sound in her head. The magic alarm that had been given to her by her mentor was now going off. Someone was inside her shack. _Fuck! Alright, fuck! What do you do now, Dulce, think!_ She could go back to get Zeysa for help, or maybe even just spend the night at her friend's house. No, that wouldn't do. That was the coward's way out, and Zeysa's too young for combat. _No, you've got this, Dulce. You're going to make whoever it is wish that they hadn't broke into this shack. It had better not be those assholes from the bar._ Yet, how could it be? How would they know where to find her? Dulce readied the Eldritch Blast incantation and opened the door.

It was dark in the shack, but, as a witch of the shadows, Dulce could see through the dark clear as day. Nothing seemed out of place and nothing was broken. Her potion supplies, tools, and ingredients were exactly where she left them. Hesitantly, she took a few more steps inside. Then she called out, "Alright, I know you're here! You've made a big mistake tonight! I'm a powerful witch and I will blast you full of holes unless you come out quietly! … Now!" She waited… and… nothing. She made her way toward the "bedroom" which was really a closet with a door and a mattress on the floor. She put her ear against the door and heard… breathing. _Waiting for me in my bedroom, huh? Hoping for a nice surprise? I'll give you a surprise, creep._ Dulce charged her palm with Eldritch energy. Then she flung the door open and…dropped her hands to her sides. It was Effrain.

Yet, something about him wasn't right. He was sitting on her mattress cross legged and staring at the wall next to him. No, not at the wall. He was staring through it. His eyes looked completely vacant. In his right hand, he was clutching a big, brown bottle of something that smelled strong and foul. To Dulce's annoyance, he hadn't bothered to take off his boots. He just sat their staring.

_Oh goddess, he's dissociating again._ "Effrain," she called out to him softly. "Effrain." There was no response. She planted her knees down on the mattress and slowly shuffled over to him. Louder, she said, "Effrain, it's Dulce. Please answer me." She placed a hand on his shoulder. At that he turned his head from the wall to face her. That's when she noticed the huge gash over his left eyebrow that was trickling blood down the side of his face. "Oh goddess, Effrain, what the fuck happened?"

"Dulce?" He finally spoke.

"Yes, Effrain, it's me. You are in my home. You came here, remember?" She shook him a little. "Tell me what happened."

"Raeglaess…" Effrain said as if he was trying to remember something from long ago. "Raeglaess hit me with a Thunderwave."

_Of course._ "A Thunderwave? You're lucky to be alive! Get up! Can you get up? Get up, you jackass!" She yanked on him until he rose to his feet. She tugged his arm towards her kitchen/potion brewing center. She lit the room's tiny lantern then she cleared away some old spoons and dusty potion bottles from the table. Finally, she forced him down into her only chair. Then she hurried to the counter for her pitcher of water and a rag. "I told you! Didn't I? I told you that if you didn't let it go then someone would get hurt." She dipped the rag into the water and brought both rag and pitcher over to him. "Well, now you're hurt."

"Am I?" Effrain strained to understand her.

She started to dab the blood away from the gash above his eyebrow with the rag. Once she'd cleared away the dried blood and collected filth, she saw the cut was deep. "Yes, Effrain you're hurt," she spoke to him like she was scolding a child. "This is going to need stitches. It will probably leave a scar. Tell me, was it worth it? Did you get your revenge?" She allowed herself to stop and look into his pretty, blue eyes. She could tell he was in pain, but it wasn't physical. Something happened in Neverwinter. "Effrain," her voice softened again, "talk to me. Tell me what happened."

"I… I found him."

"Raeglaess?" She said the name of the bard gang leader like it was a curse.

"Yeah. Raeglaess. He was posted up in one of those rat holes that he and The Grinners throw shows in. I waited until I thought he was alone, and I went in after him."

"But he wasn't alone, was he?" Dulce continued cleaning his face.

"No, Clas and Rolf were with him. I was outnumbered, so I freaked and cast Burning Hands to light the place up."

Dulce winced. "Effrain…"

"I know… I… I freaked… Everyone got out, and I lost Raeglaess in the chaos."

"So how did he Thunderwave you?"

"Well, that wasn't the end of it."

"Of course, it wasn't," Dulce said under her breath.

"Dulce, he…" Effrain pulled away from her for a second. "In retaliation for burning his place down, he went after my brother."

"Tarian? He hurt Tarian? Is he going to be okay?"

"Yes… no… I don't know. He was in bad shape when I left him and… I was so angry, Dulce. I wanted to wipe Raeglaess from existence, so… I read the book again."

Dulce shuddered, stood up, and walked away from the warlock and to the counter. "Effrain, you promised. You fucking promised."

"I know, I know, but it was Tarian, and I was just so angry…"

Dulce's voice turned to ice. "Alright. What did you do?"

Effrain steadied himself against the table. "Using the book, I found him again. He was about to skip town. The guards started looking for all of us after the fire. I caught him before he was about to leave, and I recited an incantation I learned from the book. I was aiming for Raeglaess, but Clas… he…he pushed the sonuvabitch out of the way and took the hit himself. Clas…I didn't mean to hurt him. I always liked him. He was maybe the best of us, and he… Dulce… I… I think I sent him to hell."

The only thing that prevented Dulce from collapsing to the floor was the fact that the counter was supporting her weight. Otherwise, she would have buckled then and there. She remembered Clas. He was a gentle giant with a goofy smile. He once stood up to some men who were hassling her in Neverwinter when she was still just a girl. He was loyal to Raeglaess and to a fault, yes, but he didn't deserve that. How could Effrain do that? How could he?

"After Clas…disappeared…Raeglaess got up and hit me with the Thunderwave. I think it would have killed me, but…after Clas was…after the incantation, I felt stronger. Still, the Thunderwave hit me hard and sent me sailing clear through a wall. I think Raeglaess wanted to finish me off, but the guards were bearing down on him after all that noise. He had to split. Me? I picked myself out of the debris. Then I guess I bought this." He gestured toward the bottle. "Then I guess I walked here."

"You guess?"

"It's… it's been hard to remember much after I read from the book."

Dulce took a moment to steady her breathing then, "What about Tarian?"

"He's safe." Effrain took a swig from his bottle. "The Crone came and took him and my mother somewhere safe."

"Where?"

He shrugged. "They wouldn't tell me…I wouldn't tell me, either. Dulce… I'm a monster."

As soon as he said that, Dulce couldn't hold the tears back any longer. The floodgates lifted and they came pouring through. She walked back over to Effrain, fell to her knees, and grabbed his face. "No, you're not. You're not a monster! It's that thing inside you, baby. That thing you sold your soul to. That's the monster! It's making you do this. It won't let you let go. Please…please let me help you. Forget Raeglaess. We need to get your soul back. We can read the book again. Maybe there's something we missed."

The warlock shook his head. "No… there's nothing in there." Then he started to cry.

"Then we'll find another way! Just please…Please…Please stay here…with me." Then she kissed him. The salt from their tears mixed in with the taste of cheap booze, and of…him. Of Effrain. Her Effrain. Dulce's first real friend. Her first real love. Even now, she could still feel him in there. Even after everything…

Effrain pushed her away. "No! No… not like this. I can't be with you like this. Belphegor… I won't let him take you too." He started for the door.

"Effrain! Stop!" He halted and she stood up. "Don't do this. Don't go back out there alone with that thing in your soul and its evil book in your hands. That's the path to becoming a monster."

Effrain shuffled back around to face her. He held out his arms and in Abyssal he said, "Appear." In front of him, a black cloud of smoke formed and coalesced into the book. The book of That Which Does Not Move. The Book of Belphegor. "Here." He held the book out to her. "I can't break my promise if I don't have it, right?"

Dulce reached out for it then hesitated.

"I know," he said. "I know and I'm sorry, but I wouldn't trust anyone else to have it."

Dulce sighed and took possession of the book. As soon as she touched it, a vague feeling of dread washed over her like something was wrong, but she couldn't put her finger on what. Effrain then leaned in to kiss her goodbye, but this time she pulled away from him. A look of disgust crossed her face. "If you're going to go, just go."

Effrain staggered back. It was like she'd just punched him in the gut. "I'm sorry," he choked out. "I'm just… sorry. I'll come back. I promise."

"Well, don't expect me to be waiting here for you when you do."

"I- "

"Go. Just go!" And just like that, he was gone.

Dulce looked down at the ancient, black, Abyssal book she was now holding in her hands. Effrain was gone, but the burden of him remained. What could she possibly do to hide this? To keep it safe? She could ask Zeysa in the morning. Maybe she would have a few ideas. There was that shrinking potion they had been working on… Maybe that would… Well, save it for the morning. Maybe then the world wouldn't feel so heavy. Maybe then her heart won't ache. Hell, maybe then he would come back. Not likely… but who knows what tomorrow might bring?


End file.
